


Domestic Harmonies 8: Home (London and Back Again)

by Mizmak



Series: Domestic Harmonies [8]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Complete, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Short & Sweet, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:42:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24774085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizmak/pseuds/Mizmak
Summary: The final story of this 8-part slice-of-life series where an angel and a demon learn how to live together.  Crowley and Aziraphale make a visit to London--will seeing favorite places make them question their new life?This series is now complete.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Domestic Harmonies [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1762777
Comments: 14
Kudos: 36





	Domestic Harmonies 8: Home (London and Back Again)

Although he and Crowley had moved away from the city, Aziraphale had kept his beloved bookshop, for he anticipated visiting London at least two or three times a month. There would always be fine restaurants to dine at there, and theatre shows he’d love to see, and he had no plans to give those up. Such visits would also give them a chance to pop round to a wine shop to stock up on the essentials of a happy life.

On a crisp day in early Autumn, they made their first return journey. Aziraphale had suggested the outing, as he wished to check out a sale at an antiquarian bookshop. They got into London near eleven that morning, and went straight to the sale. Aziraphale spent a happy hour picking out several boxes worth of wonderful new tomes, which filled the Bentley’s boot and part of the rear seat.

“You do remember that your bookcases at the cottage are crammed full, right?” Crowley asked as the last box was settled.

This was quite true. “I shall have to trade some out, I suppose.” Aziraphale sighed as he climbed into the passenger seat. “I can box up a batch from the cottage to store at my bookshop here, to make room for these new ones.” 

As Crowley pulled into the street, he said, “Do you miss having all your books in one place?”

Aziraphale thought this over. He had grown terribly attached to his bookshop over two centuries, and not just because he could keep his collection all together. Memories had been formed there. He thought of it as the place where he and Crowley had truly cemented their friendship.

“I suppose I do miss that a little bit.”

“Because it occurred to me, watching you buy all those new ones, that it might be easier to just add a separate building onto the cottage property—big enough for all of your books.”

Not a bad thought. “The bookshop would look awfully empty, though. We do need a place to stay when we’re here overnight—I would like to keep it looking at least somewhat familiar and cozy.”

“We’ll probably wind up spending our time in the bookshop flat upstairs,” Crowley pointed out. “You don’t have to change that. Might work fine, taking all your books out.”

“I’ll think it over, my dear.” In truth, he had fretted at times about break-ins, now that the shop was permanently closed with no one there to keep an eye on things. Not that his book collection should be a big draw to ruffians, but still. There was the possibility of vandalism, or homeless squatters, to keep him up at nights.

“Right, on to lunch then? The Ritz all right?”

“Yes, of course it is. And as it’s such a lovely day, we ought to take a stroll through the park for afters. I’m quite certain the ducks must be missing us.”

Their old regular table at the Ritz was miraculously available, the wait staff greeted them fondly, and their meal was, as always, perfect. Aziraphale thoroughly indulged himself with Dover sole served with leeks, cauliflower, and caviar, followed by a chocolate souffle.

Afterwards, as they strolled from the restaurant towards St. James’s Park, Crowley asked, “Do you miss the fine dining here?”

It was true, Aziraphale thought, that the eating options in their new home were limited. Their cottage stood on the outskirts of a village which had only one café and one pub. They served decent food, though nothing extraordinary. The nearest fine restaurant was only a ten-minute drive away in the nearest town, and it was a half hour drive to the nearest city with a good sushi place, which wasn’t that inconvenient.

Nothing, of course, could compare to the Ritz.

It was also true that Aziraphale had taken up cooking since their move, for that very reason. Not that he could ever achieve the Ritz’s high standards, mind. But while his early efforts had been little short of disastrous, over time he’d improved greatly, and he now enjoyed the challenges of the kitchen.

Even Crowley ate more food than he used to, when Aziraphale cooked it for him.

“I should like to do some grocery shopping while we’re in Town,” he replied. “There are several new recipes I wish to try. Perhaps I can concoct something which a fine restaurant would not be ashamed to serve.”

“Yeah, you are getting better. So, you’re okay with it, then?”

“Yes, I believe I am adjusting.”

They reached the park and headed off towards the duck pond. A light breeze swirled the Autumn leaves around their feet as they walked. When they reached the pond, Aziraphale produced a packet of cracked corn to toss out.

“Oh, look,” he said as they leaned against the railing. “Henry and Henrietta are still here.” He pointed out a pair of mallards paddling towards them.

Crowley snorted. “You _named_ them? How can you tell one duck from another?”

“Henry has an odd tail feather—do you see the little ones that curl over the top of his nether quarters? One of them is bent.”

“Nether quarters? You mean the top of its little duck arse?”

“Crude, my dear. But yes. And while female mallards are mottled shades of brown and beige, Henrietta has a distinct white streak next to her left eye.”

He tossed cracked corn to his favorite pair on the pond, and smiled as Henry and Henrietta gobbled it up. 

“You haven’t named all of them, have you?” Crowley asked as a dozen or more ducks swam furiously towards the food source.

“Of course not. Only these two, because they are most unusual. Ducks do not ordinarily mate for life, merely for one season. However, Henry and Henrietta have returned to each other for three years in a row now. I find that rather charming.”

As he continued to toss the corn, the other ducks swarmed around his favorite pair, crowding them out. Wings fluttered in displays of aggression between several males, so he held up feeding them for a bit.

“Too bad we haven’t got ducks on our own pond yet,” he said. They had dug one out at the rear of the property, and put in the sort of aquatic plants ducks liked best, but so far none had deigned to arrive.

“You miss feeding them, don’t you?” Crowley touched his arm.

Aziraphale was sensing a theme to their London jaunt. “That’s the third time you’ve asked if I missed something here.” There were two possible reasons—either Crowley believed he wasn’t happy about the move to the South Downs, or Crowley _himself_ wasn’t happy and was consciously or unconsciously projecting his feelings. 

“Just want to make sure you’re all right with it—not living here anymore, I mean.”

“I’m perfectly content, my dear.” Aziraphale reached over to hold his hand, squeezing it gently. “Are _you?”_

“Me?” Crowley smiled as he gave a nonchalant shrug. “Don’t care one bit where I live, Angel, so long as you’re there, too.”

“Yes, well, I want you to be happy at the cottage. Are you sure it isn’t _you_ who is missing London?”

“Nah. Too much traffic, too many people, had a boring flat—only place I ever wanted to go was your bookshop.” Then he gazed out over the pond. “Well, and here. When you were here with me, that is.”

He sounded sincere. “Speaking of the bookshop, why don’t we amble back to the car and head over there now? We could have tea, and a nice quiet evening—perhaps have some food ordered in for dinner.”

“Right. Say goodbye to Henry and Henrietta, then.”

The ducks had calmed down, and most had swum off, except for that one pair. Aziraphale sighed as he tossed them the last of the corn. “I suppose I _shall_ miss these two, until our next visit.”

As he turned to walk off, he thought he heard fingers snapping behind him before Crowley caught him up. “Did you just _do_ something?”

“Possibly,” Crowley replied with a mischievous grin. “Come on, Angel.” And he quickly strode away from the pond.

They enjoyed a pleasant evening at the bookshop. Everything was in order there—Aziraphale spent a good hour looking over the place to ensure nothing had been disturbed since their previous visit. He had a grand time poking about in every nook and cranny, and looking over all the bookshelves. It truly was a wonderful haven to have in the midst of this bustling city.

Once he was reassured that all was well, they retired to the flat upstairs for a leisurely tea in the sitting room. After they finished, Aziraphale decided to read one of the new books he’d acquired that morning. He sat at one end of the sofa while Crowley stretched out to take a short nap, with his head on Aziraphale’s lap.

It was all quite lovely, yet he knew that this was just an interlude in their new life together. As much as he adored his bookshop, and even though there were places in London he cherished, nothing could compare to having a real home of their very own. And their cottage felt like a real home—a place where, no matter how far they wandered, they would always wish to return to. Everything they truly needed could be found there, and these little jaunts to the city felt more like a pleasant treat than a nostalgic journey.

Although, he thought as Crowley stirred and stretched, the cottage could do with some ducks.

“Dinner time,” he asked as Crowley opened his eyes. “Shall we order Thai in?”

Crowley sat up, then shifted to take Aziraphale into a light embrace, and to give him a quick kiss. “Sounds fine.”

And it was. They had a delicious dinner at the bookshop, followed by more lounging on the sofa, with plenty of caresses and light kissing when they weren’t chatting—or in Aziraphale’s case, reading a little more.

“Thank you for letting me indulge myself at that book sale,” he said as he closed his book near midnight. “I’ve read quite enough, though, for one night. Shall we retire?”

Crowley, who had been resting again, gave out a huge yawn in reply.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’, my dear.”

“Yeah…long day.” 

“An excellent day.” Aziraphale rose, and held out a hand to help pull Crowley up. 

“I know one thing I don’t miss,” his friend said as they entered the bedroom. “This bed of yours.”

Aziraphale had to admit that his antique bed was a little too small, and the mattress stood a bit too high, and that their new bed at the cottage was a vast improvement. Still, it was only for one night—and once they climbed in and slid beneath the sheets, all that mattered was falling asleep in each other’s arms.

“We’ll survive,” he replied.

And they did.

In the morning, after a quick breakfast at a Soho café, they stopped at Harrods so Aziraphale could stock up on foodstuffs for his cooking experiments. Then they headed back to the South Downs, arriving at their cottage just before eleven. They unloaded the boxes of books and the groceries, after which Aziraphale made tea. The weather had turned brilliantly warm for this time of year, so he carried the tray, along with some newly bought ginger-almond biscuits, out to the garden.

There they had an outdoor dining table and chairs by the flower beds, and he set everything down. They enjoyed their tea and biscuits, while Aziraphale told Crowley at some length about the new recipes he was eager to try with the groceries that he’d bought. 

But Crowley seemed a little distracted, and kept glancing towards the back of the property where the pond lay.

“Everything all right?” Aziraphale asked as he finished off the last biscuit.

“Yeah, fine.”

“Well, I’m done. Shall we go inside?”

Crowley had turned round to look towards the pond again. When he looked back at Aziraphale, he was smiling. “Follow me first.” He rose and sauntered off to the rear of the garden.

Curiouser and curiouser. Aziraphale got up to trot after him. 

And then he heard the quacks.

_Ducks at last!_

He quickened his pace, joining Crowley at the edge of the pond. There, in the center, two mallards paddled about—a male and a female.

Aziraphale looked more closely. The male had a bent tail feather, and the female had a familiar white streak on its head.

With a contented sigh of pleasure, Aziraphale slipped his arm through Crowley’s. “I _thought_ that was a finger snap I heard at the park.”

“All I did was suggest to Henry and Henrietta that they might find this pond less crowded.”

“ _Miraculously_ suggest, perhaps?”

“Could be.”

Aziraphale leaned against his dear friend’s shoulder, and then kissed his cheek. “One less thing to miss from London. _Thank you.”_

“Also, while you were wandering the aisles of Harrods forever this morning, I bought some cracked corn.” Crowley pulled a paper packet from inside his jacket. “Loads more in one of those boxes we hauled in.” He handed the packet over.

“You know, you’ve gotten terribly considerate of late.” Aziraphale opened the paper and scattered the corn across the pond. 

The mallards swam over quickly to snap up the bounty.

“Comes from being in love with an angel,” Crowley replied. “Never could feel very demonic when you were around.”

“And now that I’m around all the time, it’s only gotten worse, I should imagine. Or should I say better?”

“Definitely better.” Crowley draped an arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders. “I’m glad we moved here. We’re good here together.”

Aziraphale finished tossing out the last of the corn. “And I’m glad to hear you say so, my dear.” He pocketed the empty packet, and then rubbed his hands. “Now then, let’s get the tea things inside, and the groceries sorted, yes? I’m going to try a new recipe for that salmon I bought.”

They turned away from the duck pond, and headed back to the cottage, where everything they could ever possibly want could be found.


End file.
